


Storytellers

by miraielle



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Blogging, E-mail, Epistolary, Fraternities & Sororities, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Theatre, Work In Progress, quasi-epistolary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraielle/pseuds/miraielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett was planning to spend his college years producing plays with his friends and partying with the Mu Psis, but that was before he met a transfer student with a perfect voice and a deep-seated grudge.</p>
<p>In which Fenris hates fraternities, Anders would die (or maybe kill) for his brothers, Sebastian doesn't know <i>what</i> he wants, Bethany and Merrill have more fun than you, Carver wants to disown everyone, Garrett just wants everyone to be happy, Aveline wants them all to shut up, Izzy thinks it's all hilarious, and Varric's going to tell the Internet every last detail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Back to School  
Posted August 26, 2013 at 10:30 AM by The Storyteller

_This week,[Nobody Expects the College Inquisition](http://www.collegeinquisition.com) is publishing introductory posts from our new bloggers. Over the next nine months, they’ll be giving you an insider perspective on what it’s like to be a college student. They’re all sophomores, but they go to very different schools - from a massive midwestern university to a tiny northeastern liberal arts college - and have very different lives (for example, we’ve got a sorority girl, a commuter who spent three years in the army, and a self-proclaimed physics nerd). We hope you’ll like all eight of them as much as we do._

People always think I have some big life plan. This summer, I’ve heard the same thing over and over: “You were always so _bright_ and _motivated_. What are you going to do after college?”

What I wanted to say was, “How the fuck should I know?”

I didn’t, of course, not least because most of the people saying it were customers and my dad would kill me if I ever said that to a customer. So I politely told them that I was still exploring my options, though I’m not sure they really believed me.

Nobody asks my brother that question. He’s a senior at the same college as me, but everyone knows he’s going to move home and train to take over the family business. Wrestling, econ, theatre, leaving home - all of it's just a lark for him. A detour.

Me, though, not so much.

They’re not wrong about one thing. I _am_ motivated, though not in the way they think I am. Actually, I’ll let you in on a little secret: there are really only three things you need to know about me.

First, my real motivation: I will never, ever move back home.

Second, there are two things that I truly love: stories and my friends. (Sure, if I added up all of my friends, it would come out to more than two, but bear with me here. If you’re going to be really anal about it, call it ‘friendship’ rather than ‘my friends’. Whatever lets you sleep at night.)

And finally, yes, I did intentionally list them in that order.

You can call me the Storyteller. I’m a student at a liberal arts college somewhere in New England. My friends and I work hard, party hard, and theatre hard. Let me tell you about it.

_Some details are fictionalized to retain anonymity. Any attempts to discover or reveal the identities of any College Inquisition bloggers will result in immediate account banning._

_Already published posts in this series:[The Sister](http://www.collegeinquisition.com/blogs/sister/back-to-school); [The Dungeon Master](http://www.collegeinquisition.com/blogs/dungeon-master/back-to-school)  
Coming this afternoon: The Quarterback_

* * *

From: But I sure act tall [vtethras@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 4:48 PM  
Subject: Dinner!

We’re driving up early tomorrow. Anybody else going to be in yet? Shall we get this party started?

Garrett, no excuses.

-V

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 4:50 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

Saints forfend, dude. 6?

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 7:52 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

Garrett, sweetie, have you just been refreshing your email every thirty seconds all summer?

I’m in. Gives me something to look forward to before spending three days in the woods with first-years.

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 7:53 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

No. Shut up.

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 8:35 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

If you didn’t actually want to help Orient some Freshmen, Izzy, why’d you sign up?

I’ll send an email, see if I can’t get our room reserved. Looking forward to it.

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 8:44 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

I don’t know, Sebby. Maybe you rubbed off on me.

Or maybe I thought that seeing me do something selfless would help you consider rubbing off on me in the future.

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 8:49 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

Gross, Iz.

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 9:02 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

Wish I could, but I don’t get in until Friday. Think you can keep them in line, Sebastian?

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 9:18 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

I make no promises, Aveline, though Lord knows I'll try.

And Isabela, It isn’t selfless if you have ulterior motives. I, for one, am looking forward to three days in the woods with some first-years.

Our room's reserved, everyone.

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 9:30 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

Aww, it’s cute how you get all flustered.

*

From: But I sure act tall [vtethras@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 9:36 PM  
Subject: Dinner!

Has anyone heard from Anders?

*

it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 9:40 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

Three postcards. No return address. :(

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 9:40 PM  
Subject: Re: Dinner!

He’ll be on our nerves again within fifteen minutes of turning up. Like a really annoying bad penny.

*

From: But I sure act tall [vethras@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 27, 2013 at 9:36 PM  
Subject: Dinner!

So say we all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. Currently un-betaed (and taking volunteers, if anyone's interested), so any errors are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Varric's email name here is from a version of Aesop's "The Lion and the Mouse" by [Bernadette Watts](http://www.amazon.com/The-Lion-Mouse-Fable-Aesop/dp/0735812209/ref=cm_lmf_tit_3). The silly email names (technically called "finger names", apparently) were a custom when I was in college among those of us nerdy enough to use the UNIX email client. No idea if people still do it, but I like it and I'm gonna use it.
> 
> Varric's closing email line is from 2005's Battlestar Galactica.


	2. Chapter 2

There are first-years everywhere. They stand in awkward knots, talking too loudly; they hug their parents goodbye, some crying openly while others try to look brave. A few are still carrying boxes into the propped-open doors of dormitories. They trip over curbs and steps as they gawk at the architectural mish-mash of the last hundred and fifty years. Garrett would want to pinch their cheeks if it weren’t for the fact that he’d spent all day moving Beth and Carver into their dorms, six hours of answering questions from their eager dorm-mates and making awkward small talk with parents and lugging boxes up five flights of stairs.

He’d avoided being on campus since the end of the previous school year. It wasn’t easy, given that his house is all of four blocks east of the fine arts building that marks the edge of campus, but he’d found a summer job at the Subway in the next town over, taken the extra-long route to the library in order to skirt the rugby fields, and made up excuses whenever Ari or Bodie invited him to a party for the motley assortment of students who’d stayed on campus for the summer.

He’d still used his season tickets to the Festival, of course, but that was a childhood tradition. Flanked by Mom and Beth in the darkened theatre, watching _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof_ or _Arcadia_ or _Clybourne Park_ or _Into the Woods_ , he’d pretended he was still eighteen and dreaming of acting on that stage, rather than nineteen and dreaming of being in Mystic with Izzy or Wheeling with Varric or wherever-the-fuck with Anders.

Now, though, walking across campus for the first time in over three months - three months, one week, and three days, but who’s counting - he remembers streaking across this quad with Anders and the rest of their pledge class, sitting in those chairs with Aveline while she patiently walked him through the military history reading he hadn’t bothered to do, stifling a laugh at Izzy’s exaggerated eye roll when Sebastian bowed his head to pray while they all sprawled under this oak tree with their bag lunches, and the only thing that keeps him from sitting down right here and bawling is the knowledge that he’s going to see them again in five minutes.

Or, as it turns out, five seconds.

“ _Hawke_!”

He barely manages to look up and brace himself before Izzy launches herself into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist and dark hair flying around his face as she kisses him. He gives a muffled squawk that’s more joy than protest and spins her around until she leans back, laughing, and the empty pit in his stomach fills with something joyful and sparkling.

“Did you get even _taller_ over the summer?” she asks. “I think I had to jump farther.”

“Your heel is in my kidney,” Garrett informs her. “Please let go.”

“That’s why you have two,” she says cheerfully, but unwinds her legs and hops down. “ _Look_ at you! You totally grew, your shirt is too small, don’t you ever go shopping?”

“This is only, like, three years old,” he protests, though she looks even more horrified in response. “And look at _you_ , you look great!”

That distracts her from criticizing his fashion taste - it always does - but it’s the truth. Her dark skin is glowing from a summer spent in the riggings of the Mystic ships, and her hair curls wild around her shoulders.

“Some of us put in an effort, thank you,” she says, and taps a finger against his nose. “You, my dear boy, were just looking thoroughly tragic, though. Tell Isabela what’s wrong.”

Garrett narrows his eyes at her. “So you can laugh at me?”

“So I can laugh at you and then go kick his ass,” she corrects him.

“Well, as long as you’re really going to make him pay,” Garrett says, then laughs as her eyes narrow. “No, you don’t get to make anyone cry today. I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Aww, sweetie,” she says, hooking her elbow through his. “I missed you, too.”

Corff Dining Hall smells, as always, of unidentifiable meat, week-old vegetables, industrial strength dish detergent, and gym shoes. The first time they ate here as a group was in mid-October when Varric had invited them all to the small room he’d reserved off of the main dining hall. They eyed each other uncertainly over their food, Sebastian frowning at Anders’ popped collar, Aveline’s eyebrows rising incrementally as Izzy flirted her way around the table, Garrett elbowing Anders every time he started talking too loudly, and Varric smiling benevolently at them all.

“ _Really_ , Varric,” Aveline finally said, “if you’re not going to tell us what this is about, I have reading I should be doing.”

Varric gave her an extra-large smile and stood up.

“I’d like to welcome you all to the very first meeting of Kirkwall College’s very own student-run theatre company,” he said, opening his arms in the sort of expansive gesture that would’ve looked ridiculous on anyone else but somehow, coming from Varric, with his barrel chest and square jaw, made them all nod thoughtfully and murmur in agreement.

After a second, Aveline frowned and shook her head. “But I’ve never acted in my life,” she said. “I’ve never even _seen_ a play.”

“Maybe not,” Varric agreed, “but if you don’t have a damn good stage manager hidden in there somewhere, I’ll eat Friday night casserole for a month.”

Their very first production was _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)_ , performed by Garrett and Anders and Izzy for three nights only in the largest common room they could get anyone to agree to loan them. Varric directed, they all pitched in on props and costumes, and Sebastian handled publicity, finances, and all sorts of administrative details that, as he delighted in pointing out, nobody else even noticed. Aveline corrected their blocking and line errors with swift brutality in rehearsals and produced band-aids and replacements for missing props out of thin air during performances, which meant that the rest of them complained about her when she was out of earshot, gave her flowers and complimented her until she blushed at the cast party, and agreed that Varric never had to eat Friday night casserole again. They squashed forty people per night into the common room, and on the last night, they had to briefly pause the performance when poor Wesley laughed so hard he hyperventilated, which they all agreed meant that it had been a huge success

Midway through a very drunken dramatic reading of _The Taming of the Shrew_ at the cast party, somebody declared that they should call themselves Odd Inventions. Garrett remembered it being Izzy, since she was reading Bianca, but Izzy insisted it was Sebastian’s idea, and both Aveline and Anders were firm in the belief that Varric intended that to be their name all along and somehow got somebody else to suggest it.

Sebastian, who didn’t drink, was the only one who could remember that it was Garrett who first suggested it, but he found the argument funny enough that he hadn’t bothered to correct them for months.

Not that it mattered; in the morning, Izzy raised her mimosa in the air to toast Odd Inventions, Anders said, “Hear, hear!” before throwing up in the sink, Varric ordered t-shirts, and they were stuck with it.

Some combination of the six of them could almost always be found together at any given meal, but Wednesday was Dinner Night, when all of them gathered in the room they came to think of as _their_ room. They agreed on Wednesday because it was the only night none of them had any other commitments and, more importantly, because Wednesday was brunch night at Corff.

Now it’s the first Wednesday of their sophomore year, the first brunch night meeting of Odd Inventions for the year, and Garrett holds in a lungful of mystery-meat-rotting-greens-detergent-foot-scented air and beams at the stranger who passes them in the hall before flourishing his student ID at the woman manning the register. “Hello, Norah! I missed you. How was your summer?”

“Don’t mind him,” Izzy says, shoving him gently ahead of her. “He’s high on back-to-school fumes. Probably been huffing White-Out.”

“Markers,” Garrett says. “Pencil shavings! Notebooks unmarred by despairing doodles!”

They’ve worked their way past new shoes, exorbitantly priced textbooks, and an argument over whether or not dorm bathrooms count by the time they’ve gotten their food and found that Sebastian’s the only person to have beaten them to their table.

“Finally,” he says. “I had to chase a group of first-years out. It’s like they don’t know what reserved means.”

“We’re five minutes early,” Izzy points out.

Garrett sets his tray down and hugs Sebastian before he can protest. “I missed you, too, buddy!” Garrett says. “My summer was _super_ boring, thanks for asking, how was yours?”

Sebastian relaxes after a second and pats Garrett on the back, a gesture that Garrett recognizes as both _hi_ and _please let go_ and _I’m really trying not to be uncomfortable here_. There’d been one incident just before winter break the previous year that resulted in Anders giving Sebastian a bloody nose and, Garrett suspects, Varric giving Sebastian a serious talking-to regarding what sort of behavior was acceptable if he wanted to keep hanging out with them. Garrett had expected Sebastian to disappear, but he was surprised to find Sebastian not only at dinner the first Wednesday of the January term, but also eager to apologize to him, Anders, and Izzy for what he termed his ‘judgment of their lifestyles’.

“For fuck’s sake, Sebastian,” Aveline sighed, “it’s not a _lifestyle_.”

So then Sebastian had apologized for _that_ , and more than once since then. Anders snarls under his breath every time, but Garrett can tell that Sebastian really is trying, and he figures it isn’t Sebastian’s fault that he was taught some bigoted bullshit as a kid, so long as he’s trying to unlearn it now.

Besides, nobody else wants to be responsible for reserving the room every week.

“Sorry,” Sebastian says as Garrett lets go. “I went to Guatemala with Habitat for Humanity.”

“Well, that sounds positively _not_ super boring, and I’m sure Garrett can’t wait to hear all about it,” Izzy says. “Unfortunately, I must go to the bathroom.”

Sebastian droops a little. “I’ll go get dinner,” he says. “You can hold down the fort, Garrett?”

Garrett debates for a minute whether he should wait for everyone to arrive before he starts eating, but finally decides that nobody could possibly fault him for succumbing to the siren song of waffles.

So, of course, he’s just put the first bite into his mouth when somebody clears their throat from the doorway.

Garrett looks up and freezes when he sees a stranger standing there, all golden-tan skin and pale silvery-blond hair and slouched shoulders.

“Is this Odd Inventions?” the man asks. He’s leaning forward slightly, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, like he’s ready to move at any second. It’s a good quality for an improviser, but it’s a completely terrible quality for somebody who Garrett is very sure needs to sit down and talk to him and _not leave_ , like the way the guy is looking back over his shoulder suggests he might at any second if Garrett doesn’t figure out a way to stop him.

So Garrett smiles around his mouthful of waffle and nods vigorously and dribbles strawberry down his chin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Text Messages between Isabela Rivain and Garrett Hawke, 8/28/13**  
 **Izzy:** Are you making out yet?  
 **Izzy:** Is he a good kisser?  
 **Izzy:** Garrett  
 **Izzy:** Garrett where are you?  
 **Izzy:** Are you having sex? You don’t have to answer if you’re having sex.  
 **Garrett:** omg shut up  
 **Izzy:** Because you’re about to make sweet love to Fenris??  
 **Garrett:** NO, I’ll be home in 10, I’ll gchat you.  
 **Izzy:** FINE.

* * *

**goshhawke[at]gmail.com:** You’re the worst  
 **sirenscall[at]gmail.com:** well????  
 **goshhawke:** The WORST  
 **sirenscall:** don’t make me come over there  
 **goshhawke:** nothing happened, why would you think anything happened?  
 **sirenscall:** Garrett.  
 **goshhawke:** what?  
 **sirenscall:** You said he had a GOOD FACE.  
 **goshhawke:** for ACTING  
 **sirenscall:** yeah, okay, sure, that’s totally what you meant  
 **goshhawke:** Nothing happened.  
 **sirenscall:** you walked off into the sunset together!  
 **goshhawke:** technically it was AWAY from the sunset  
 **goshhawke:** because we both happen to live in an easterly direction  
 **sirenscall:** so you walked him home???  
 **goshhawke:** If by “walked him home” you mean “walked vaguely next to him until he went into his building without saying goodbye”, sure  
 **sirenscall:** which dorm???  
 **goshhawke:** N/A, he has an apartment  
 **sirenscall:** FANCY. Sexy over-21 transfer student with an apartment, you gotta lock that shit down  
 **goshhawke:** Shut uuuuuuuuup  
 **sirenscall:** whatever, you were so smitten.  
 **goshhawke:** nothing’s ever going to happen, he thinks I’m a mooooooron  
 **sirenscall:** that wouldn’t happen if you didn’t act like a moron, sweetie  
 **goshhawke:** I had STRAWBERRY ON MY CHIN for, like, FIVE MINUTES, OH MY GOD, I can’t believe he let me sit there with strawberry on my chin  
 **sirenscall:** hahahahahahahaha not gonna lie, that was hilarious  
 **goshhawke:** I hate yoooooou  
 **goshhawke:** And then he got all huffy when I offered to show him all the Kirkwallian ropes  
 **sirenscall:** huffy? really?  
 **goshhawke:** yeah, like “I can take care of myself, I need no one’s help, I don’t like talking, I am a lone wolf who wears long sleeves in summer and never smiles”  
 **sirenscall:** hahaha  
 **sirenscall:** code name: Maugrim  
 **sirenscall:** and what WAS up with the long sleeves?  
 **goshhawke:** idk  
 **sirenscall:** maybe he’s just shy!  
 **goshhawke:** Whatever, people that gorgeous are never shy  
 **sirenscall:** HA. I KNEW you liked him  
 **goshhawke:** I’m not BLIND.  
 **sirenscall:** you TOTALLY want to make out with his face  
 **goshhawke:** Do you know how often I don’t make out with guys I think are attractive?  
 **goshhawke:** DAILY.  
 **goshhawke:** I have never made out with SO MANY HOT MEN.  
 **sirenscall:** Booooooooo.  
 **goshhawke:** and we have absolutely no reason to think he’s gay  
 **sirenscall:** well, he certainly wasn’t interested in me  
 **goshhawke:** not for lack of trying  
 **sirenscall:** hey, that was before I realized you were twitterpated as fuck  
 **goshhawke:** just because I saw him first doesn’t mean I have dibs  
 **sirenscall:** OOH, great, thanks  
 **sirenscall:** I will let you know whether or not he’s gay asap  
 **goshhawke:** I really hate you  
 **sirenscall:** <3 <3 <3  
 **goshhawke:** I have to go, mom’s being all weepy and empty nest-y  
 **sirenscall:** for fuck’s sake, like you aren’t all within a 15 minute walk at all times  
 **goshhawke:** have fun hiking with freshmen  
 **sirenscall:** I am packing 4 flasks  
 **goshhawke:** good call

* * *

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:34 PM  
Subject: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

I need to drink.

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:37 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

froshies got you down?

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:39 PM  
Subject: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

What? Who is Anders? I think I remember knowing an Anders once, but I haven’t heard from him in so long. My memory isn't what it used to be.

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:41 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

awww, iz, don’t be like that

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:42 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

I’ll be like whatever I damn well please, I have moss in unmentionable places.

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:45 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

You have places you won’t mention?

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:47 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Go away, I’m showering six times.

*

From: Admiral Adama [vtethras@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:50 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

She might not be exaggerating, she’s already on shower #2.

When’d you get in, Anders?

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:51 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

5:20 this morning, ASK ME HOW I KNOW

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:53 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

I couldn’t help myself, I was so happy to see you.

*

it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:54 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

HE JUMPED ON MY BED IS HOW I KNOW.

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:56 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Really, Anders, you could have hurt him.

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:57 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

god, aveline, lighten up. live a little. learn to have fun.

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 2:58 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Excuse me, I know how to have fun.

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:00 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Remind me why I missed you all again?

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:01 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Oh. You’re still here?

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:03 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

What’s that supposed to mean?

*

      From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:04 PM  
      Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

      DO NOT ANSWER THAT QUESTION, ANDERS, OR I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL END YOU.

*

      From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:05 PM  
      Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

      whatever.

*

it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:05 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Because we’re fun and you love us, Sebastian, obviously.

What time partying, I&V? Who’s acquiring supplies?

*

From: Admiral Adama [vtethras@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:08 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

To be entirely clear, I never agreed to hosting this shindig. That being said, 8ish?

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:10 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

i’m totally broke and my car’s making a Noise.

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:13 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

My fake ID got confiscated =( I have cash, though.

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:16 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

I can chip in, but I can’t go off campus this afternoon, I have a team meeting.

*

From: Admiral Adama [vtethras@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:22 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Bart’s not answering his phone. I’ll let you all know if he does.

*

it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:24 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

well, fuuuuuuuuck.

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:25 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

GARRETT ASK FENRIS TO GO WITH YOU.

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:26 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

who’s fenris

*

it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:26 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Izzy, stop.

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:28 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

FINE, I’ll do it, then. 

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:29 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

who’s fenris??

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:32 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

He’s a transfer student, our year, Varric asked him to join because he has creepy powers of knowing which people are theatre people, he took a few years off or something so he’s older than us, don’t ask him, Izzy.

*

       From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:33 PM  
      Subject: Busy?

       Are you busy this afternoon/evening?

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:35 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Too late!

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:38 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

why shouldn’t she ask him, that sounds perfect

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:40 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Because Garrett thinks he’s got a good face.

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:42 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

I still can’t believe you said that OUT LOUD, Garrett.

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:44 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

You actually said that? Out loud?? You’ve got no game, Garrett.

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:48 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT GAME, AVELINE.

*

       From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:50 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

      Not particularly. Why?

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:51 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Like you know anything about what I know about game, Garrett.

*

       From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:54 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

      Awesome! Varric and I are having a little get-together at our suite, pretty much just the OI people. You should totally come.

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:55 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

aveline’s right for once, g.

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:56 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

If you’re all going to suck, I’m inviting Beth and Carver, who actually love me.

*

      From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:57 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       I suppose I can drop by.

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:57 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Awwww bb. Do you need snuggles? Who’s nearby?

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:58 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

on it.

*

       From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:58 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       Awesome! Since you’re coming anyway, any chance you can do us a favor?

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 3:59 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Speaking of Beth and Carver, guess who was in my orientation group?

*

      From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:00 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       Depends on the favor.

*

       From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:01 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       Use your legal over-21 ID and our money to procure booze?

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:03 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

I’m gonna go with Beth or Carver?

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:04 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Good guess! It was Carver. He pretended he didn’t recognize me.

*

      From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:06 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       Seriously?

* 

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:07 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Maybe he didn’t?? You haven’t met very many timgjkdnnllsv

FOR FUCK’S SAKE ANDERS JUST TACKLED ME AND HE WON’T LET GO SOMEBODY SEND HELP I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY IZZY OW OW OW

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:08 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Well done, Anders. You have acquitted yourself well in today’s action.

*

       From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:09 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

      Afraid so. All our usual channels are dry at the moment. I promise that’s not why you’re invited, it’s just a nice side benefit. I'll make it worth your while.

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:09 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

Oh, no, he literally took me aside as soon as he saw me and told me not to ruin his rep by letting on that we knew each other.

*

      From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:10 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

      Fine.

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:10 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

oh my god, he is such a dick, I am so sorry.

*

       From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      CC: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:11 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       MY HERO. Garrett’ll pick you up in 10.

*

       From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:12 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       YOU  
      WHAT  
      WHY  
      I HATE YOU  
      Please come with me.

*

       From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:13 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

      No can do, Hawke, I have three more showers to take! ;) :* xoxoxoxoxox

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:14 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

thank you, iz, I try. he just got even grumpier, tho.

*

       From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]; it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:15 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

      Make it 4:30 and we have a deal.

*

       From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
      To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]; Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
      Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:16 PM  
      Subject: Re: Busy?

       Sure, man, no problem.

*

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Listserve [oddinventions-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 4:18 PM  
Subject: Re: Party. Our Suite. Tonight.

That’s because he’s got no game.

* * *

**Text messages between Garrett Hawke and Bethany Hawke, 8/31/13  
Garrett:** Party @ Izzy  & Varric’s tonight, 8ish. Come see how the college kids have fun?  
 **Beth:** Yay!!!!  
 **Beth:** Can I bring my roomie? She’s fab.  
 **Garrett:** Sure!  
 **Beth:** Yaaaaaaaay  <3 <3

* * *

**Text messages between Garrett Hawke and Carver Hawke, 8/31/13  
Garrett:** Party @ Izzy  & Varric’s tonight, 8ish. Come see how the college kids have fun?  
 **Carver:** why would i do that  
 **Garrett:** Because you love me?  
 **Carver:** fuck off, not spending my 1st college saturday w/ u  
 **Garrett:** Whatever. At least don’t be a dick to them.  
 **Carver:** ???  
 **Garrett:** Sebastian??  
 **Carver:** ur “friend” who thinks ur a perv? why should i be nice to him?  
 **Garrett:** ...fine. Be safe tonight.  
 **Carver:** have condoms. stop worrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varric's finger name is, again, from 2005's Battlestar Galactica.
> 
> Let me know if the email formatting is followable? I couldn't think of any better way to keep track of the separate email threads, but am open to suggestions.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Edited on 11/28/13 to fix email timestamps and change text formatting)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me two months to update - this semester hit me hard and I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, but I'm hoping they'll come faster from now on. Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, and especially to anyone who's still reading despite the delay!

Fenris lives just off of Main Street in an old woolen mill that’s been converted into apartments. Most of its residents, as far as Garrett knows, are visiting professors and grad students from the three small masters degree programs; given that Kirkwall College strongly encourages students to live in dorms, Fenris is probably the only undergraduate in the building.

When Garrett pulls up across the street, Fenris is leaning against the brick wall next to the front door, hands shoved into his pockets and hair gleaming in the sun. It’s even warmer than it had been on Wednesday, but he’s still in worn-in jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. He looks out of place, like he belongs somewhere grey and windy and anonymous, not in a picturesque college town. When Garrett honks to get his attention, he jumps and huddles into himself, no smile of recognition or welcome on his face as he crosses the street.

“I thought you lived the other way,” he says as he slides into the passenger seat. His sleeves are pulled down over his hands, but Garrett catches a flash of long, tapered fingers as Fenris buckles his seatbelt.

“Yes,” Garrett says, blinking away from Fenris and back to the road as he pulls away from the curb. “I mean, no, I do, sort of. My house is that way, but I moved to campus yesterday, so now I’m over on High.”

“You’re a local?” Fenris sounds uncertain, like he’s not sure if the question might offend.

“My mom’s a professor, so depends on who you ask.”

“Oh?”

“Townies say no,” Garrett says, rolling his eyes. “Kirkers say yes.”

“Hmm,” Fenris says, and then goes quiet. Garrett keeps his eyes on the road, but he can feel Fenris beside him in that hyper-aware way that always signals the beginnings of an absolutely brutal crush. It’s hard to think about anything other than the sound of Fenris breathing and the fact that he doesn’t know what color Fenris’s eyes are yet and wondering whether he’d be able to smell him if he breathes deeply enough.

“So, uh,” Garrett finally says after half a mile of mental fumbling, “thanks for doing this. I know it’s a pain.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Izzy had a fake ID last year,” Garrett continues, “but I guess it got confiscated or something? She’ll probably get a new one soon and then we won’t have to ask.”

“I just said I don’t mind,” Fenris says, though he sounds rather less patient this time.

“Right,” Garrett says. “Sorry. Thanks.” He glances over to see if Fenris seems annoyed, but Fenris is turned toward the window, the set of his shoulders betraying nothing.

Garrett lets the silence stretch out this time, though he keeps looking over out of the corner of his eye. They’re turning into the liquor store parking lot five minutes later before Fenris turns to him and says, “What should I get?”

“Uh,” Garrett says, pulling into a parking spot before reaching for his wallet, “Izzy likes rum. Other than that, cheap beer or whatever. There will be, um, nine-ish of us? But Sebastian doesn’t drink, so get, like, soda or something, too, I guess.”

“Rum, cheap beer or whatever, and soda or something,” Fenris says, taking the wad of cash Garrett offers him. “Thank you, Garrett, that’s very helpful.”

“Yeah, I live to serve,” Garrett says, and gives a cheerful thumbs up when Fenris narrows his eyes, which, it turns out, are very green.

He waits until Fenris has disappeared into the store before banging his forehead gently against the steering wheel.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Garrett is playing Angry Birds and repressing the urge to send Izzy despairing texts when Fenris emerges with a half-sized shopping cart. He unloads a case of Flying Dog Lager and another of Guinness into the backseat, then carefully tucks five brown paper bags into the footwells.

“I don’t think you got enough,” Garrett says as Fenris gets into the passenger seat.

“Well, if you _want_ alcohol poisoning,” Fenris says.

“Pass, thanks. Seriously, though, did I give you enough for all of that? We usually get, like, Miller. Maybe Stella Artois if we’re feeling fancy.”

“I don’t drink shitty beer,” Fenris says, wrinkling his nose, “nor do I give it to other people. Can we stop at the grocery store?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. You need something?”

“Limes,” Fenris says. “Ginger beer for dark and stormies, if I can find any. Will Varric and Izzy have cups?”

“Probably not,” Garrett admits. “We’re really not fancy, you don’t have to, like, make things.”

“Well,” Fenris says, as if Garrett should already know, “bartender.”

“What? Who?”

Fenris frowns. “Varric didn’t say?”

“Pretty sure I would remember that.” It’s an understatement. The vision he’s currently having of Fenris in a tight shirt, flipping bottles in time to pounding bass and flirting across a bar - though based more on _Queer as Folk_ than life experience - is one he intends to treasure.

“I worked at the pub on Main over the summer,” Fenris says, and Garrett reluctantly revises his mental image to put Fenris in jeans and a button-up shirt at the disappointingly familiar and shabby Rose. “Varric and his brother came in for lunch on Wednesday.”

“And he just, what, intuited the theatre thing?”

“Practically. His brother said something about lighting Macbeth in red. I must’ve frowned, because Varric asked me what I thought, and I said that a more naturalistic design would heighten the horror of the action. My doom was sealed.”

“Doom,” Garrett echoes faintly. That much of Fenris’s voice all at once has made his stomach twist uncomfortably. “Yes. That’s us, apocalyptic.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

Garrett considers protesting, but decides that possibly-not-apocalyptic is a decent start.

“So,” he says instead, “you were here all summer?”

“Since June. Why?”

“Dunno,” Garrett says. “Maybe my summer wouldn’t have sucked so much if I’d known you lived three blocks away.”

He looks over, and Fenris blinks at him in what looks like surprise.

“We _are_ in desperate need of a designer,” he says, turning away before he has to find out whether it’s good surprise or bad surprise, “so it’s a good thing Varric’s freaky theatre kid radar was working.”

“Don’t expect miracles," Fenris says. "I haven’t done anything in a few years.”

“Whatever, I’m sure you’re great,” Garrett says, turning into the grocery store parking lot. “Give me enthusiasm over experience any day.”

Fenris snorts, and Garrett can feel his face heat. He doesn't look over, but he can _feel_ Fenris looking at him. It's unnerving, or exciting, or - well, whatever it is, it's doing nothing for Garrett's nerves.

He opts to go inside with Fenris rather than sit in the car again, and ends up trailing him through the grocery store. Garrett feels a little overwhelmed in grocery stores - there are too many options and he always ends up dithering over brands of pasta sauce, even when he had no intention of buying any - but Fenris moves through the store like he knows exactly what he wants and where to find it. He only pauses twice: first, in the snack aisle, where Garrett has to put his foot down and refuse to let Fenris buy chips and salsa on top of everything else; and second, with a lime in his hand, when he turns to Garrett with unexpected crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Playdar,” he says.

Garrett thinks furiously for a moment before saying, “Sorry?”

“Varric’s freaky theatre kid radar,” Fenris says. “Playdar.”

He smirks for a second, just the tiniest twitch of one corner of his mouth, and turns back to the limes. Garrett looks beseechingly at a pyramid of cantaloupes for support. 

He’s pretty sure one of them laughs at him.

* * *

Garrett’s on-campus parking spot is ten minutes away from Izzy and Varric’s dorm and there’s no way he and Fenris can carry everything that distance, so he pulls into the driveway next to Ash Hall and texts Izzy. Fenris’s hands curl into his sleeves as they wait. Less than a minute later, Izzy, Varric, and Anders spill out of the building, laughing and bumping shoulders as they come down the stairs toward the driver side of the car. Fenris’s hand hesitates on the door handle as he watches them.

“That’s Anders,” Garrett says quickly. “He’s my roommate.”

“Ah,” Fenris says. “The one who went all Kerouac over the summer?”

“Yeah,” Garrett says, and laughs a little too sharply before Anders is thumping the top of the car. Fenris jumps and looks away, fiddles with the door, and Garrett frowns at his back. With Anders rattling the handle, though, there’s nothing to do but unlock it and step outside.

Anders immediately slings an arm around his shoulders. Izzy is opening the car’s back door next to them and leaning in to catalog the alcohol while Varric peers over her shoulder. Garrett tries to catch Fenris’s eye over the car’s roof, planning to introduce him to Anders, but Fenris is picking at his sleeve and not looking up.

“Hey, thanks, man,” Anders says. Garrett isn’t sure Anders has ever thanked him for anything before, and he’s about to say so before he realizes that Anders is looking at Fenris. “It was really nice of you to do this for us. What a pain, huh?”

There’s something about the way he says it - maybe a tiny bit of emphasis on the word ‘us’ - that makes Fenris look up sharply.

“He said he didn’t mind,” Garrett says, and Anders laughs and leans into him.

“Course he did,” Anders says. “You’re like a giant puppy, nobody can say no to you.”

Garrett twitches his shoulders, though he doesn’t manage to dislodge Anders. “Was that a compliment? It didn’t sound like a compliment.”

“You are a little bit puppy-ish, Garrett,” Varric says, having apparently decided that this is more interesting than the alcohol. “I think it’s the hair.”

“The hair and the big hopeful eyes,” Anders says, ruffling the former.

“And the giant feet,” Izzy says, popping out of the other side of the car with a wink at Fenris. “Did you seriously get eight bottles of wine?”

Even across the top of the car, with most of Fenris’s body hidden from view, Garrett can tell that he’s ready to run, just like he’d been when he’d showed up at Corff on Wednesday.

“God, we’re the worst,” Garrett says loudly. “Fenris, Anders. Anders, Fenris.”

“Yo,” Anders says, smiling in a way that isn’t entirely nice. “Garrett was right, you do have a good face.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Garrett says, and pushes Anders away, though Anders just laughs. Garrett looks at Varric helplessly - anywhere other than at Fenris - but Varric looks amused, the traitorous bastard.

“My fault!” Izzy raises her hand. “Telling embarrassing stories about Garrett is one of my greatest joys in life. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t be mad, Garrett,” Anders says, bumping their shoulders together. “You know I can’t resist you when you’re all flustered.”

“You’re terrible friends,” Garrett says, and finally looks at Fenris. He’s not sure whether to smile or apologize, but Fenris solves that dilemma by looking away the moment their eyes meet.

“Well,” he says, “I have - things, so I should go. Enjoy everything.”

“Cool, man, thanks,” Anders says, at the same time as Izzy says, “What, Fenris, no!”

Fenris leans into the car and pulls out a paper bag. “These were for me.”

“But the dark and stormies,” Garrett protests.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Fenris says, turning to go. “See you all around, maybe.”

“So,” Anders says, before he’s even out of earshot, “dinner?”

“What the _fuck_ is your problem, man?” Garrett snaps. Varric sighs, and Izzy shoots Anders a scathing look before trotting after Fenris.

“What? What problem?” Anders’ eyes are very wide and innocent, but he won’t quite look directly at Garrett.

“Oh, fuck you, Anders, really? You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Izzy’s gotten Fenris to stop at the far corner of Ash, too far to know what they’re saying, but close enough to tell that Fenris is listening to her and glancing back at the car as they talk.

“Well, forgive me if I wanted some time with my friends,” Anders says. “I don’t know him, and I've hardly talked to any of you in months.”

“And whose fucking fault is that?” Garrett yells. Anders flinches. Izzy and Fenris both turn to stare, and Varric sighs again, grabs two bags from the car, and heads toward the dorm.

Anders looks guilty for a moment, but then his jaw sets.

Garrett takes a step back before Anders can argue. “Fuck this. I need to go.”

“What? Come on, Garrett, don't.”

“I also have things,” Garrett says, and tosses his keys to Anders. “Park my car when you’re done unloading, would you?”

Fenris is still watching when Garrett turns and walks away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the text message format for accessibility and to uncomplicate the writing process; Chapter 3 has been edited accordingly. Hooray, this chapter didn't take 2 months!

**Text Messages between Garrett Hawke and Carver Hawke, 8/31/13  
** Garrett: Do you have dinner plans?  
 **Carver:** why?  
 **Carver:** told u im not spending my 1st college sat w/ u  
Garrett: Anders is a dick.  
 **Carver:** eating w/ dorm ppl  
 **Garrett:** Okay, no worries, sorry to bother you.  
 **Carver:** u can eat w/ us if u must  
 **Garrett:** Oh, cool, be there in 5  
 **Garrett:** You’re way too smart to write like that, you know.  
 **Carver:** I know you’re upset about your tiff with your douchebro roommate, but don’t take it out on me, you pretentious dickhead.  
 **Garrett:** Much better.

* * *

**Text Messages between Isabela Rivain and Fenris Koios, 8/31/13  
** Izzy: It occurs to me that, in saying that Anders can be a possessive dick, I may have given the impression that he and Garrett are romantically involved  
 **Izzy:** Which they arent  
 **Izzy:** Just wanted to clear that up.  
 **Fenris:** Good to know.  
 **Izzy:** Is it??  
 **Fenris:** I was hoping Anders was single.  
 **Izzy:** Ha!  
 **Izzy:** Still coming tonight?  
 **Izzy:** Because I will text you incessantly if you don’t show.  
 **Izzy:** Aren’t you glad you gave me your number?  
 **Fenris:** I’ve had enough wine that coming to the party still sounds like a good idea.  
 **Izzy:** Eeeeeeeeeexcellent.  
 **Izzy:** I’m inviting a whole slew more people  
 **Izzy:** You’ll be able to avoid anyone you may want to avoid, no prob  
 **Fenris:** Eeeeeeexcellent.

* * *

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Odd Inventions Announcements [oi-announcements-ls@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: August 31, 2013 at 6:27 PM  
Subject: WELCOME BACK!!

Varric and I have a suite (Ash Hall, 304) and alcohol (a lot of it). Come over tonight and help us drink it. We miss all of your faces or, alternately, can’t wait to meet your face!

* * *

Drama, Like We Do  
Posted by The Storyteller on August 31, 2013 at 7:30 PM

Four days into the year, and already things are getting interesting.

Some groups have one person who really holds them together. For us - what was that? Oh, no, it’s not me, though thank you for suggesting it. I _bring_ people together, but that’s very different from making them want to stay.

For us, that person is Waffles (and yes, that’s a pseudonym, and yes, I will be using pseudonyms for everyone. The guy really likes waffles, okay?). Waffles is one of those guys who is just genuinely likable and who genuinely likes everyone. Frankly, we all adore him. Blondie and Killigrew both think Choirboy needs to remove the stick from his ass, Red thinks Killigrew is flippant (her word), and all of us think Blondie tends to take the frat boy persona a little too seriously, but I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about Waffles. We all love each other, but without him, we’d descend into bickering incompetency in days.

So I don’t know why I thought adding new people would be easy. I brought a new face to dinner on Wednesday - I met him when he ranted for four minutes about lighting design in productions of Macbeth complete with textual analysis and don’t let him tell you differently, resistance was futile, he’s a transfer student, we’ll call him Broody - and Waffles immediately started crushing hard. Like, gaping, staring at him shamelessly, saying embarrassing shit, the whole deal.

So today, Killigrew - our girl’s a regular modern-day Emma Woodhouse, only not terrible at it - arranged for Waffles and Broody to go on a little shopping expedition together, and whatever Broody’s opinion going into it, when they got back there was some definite checking-each-other-out-when-the-other-one-wasn’t-looking action going on, so things were looking good for Waffles.

Or would have been, if Blondie hadn’t been there. See, what we’d neglected to take into account was the massive crush Blondie had on Waffles last year, massive to the degree that he spent the summer on an epic lonely roadtrip to try to get over it due to the fact that they’re roommates this year, which Killigrew or I would’ve tried to talk one of them out of if we’d found out in time, but we didn’t, and this sentence has gotten away from me, so:

BLONDIE: I have a massive crush on you, which I am never ever going to tell you about.  
WAFFLES: I am totally oblivious, you are my best friend and I see you as a brother, because my actual brother is kind of a dick but I love him, which is exactly how I feel about you.  
BLONDIE: This sucks, let’s be roommates next year.  
WAFFLES: Okay, sweet, I can’t wait to spend all of my time with you, platonically.  
STORYTELLER and KILLIGREW: Noooooooooooo!  
BLONDIE: FUCK, what have I done? How will I live with him being all gorgeous and sometimes naked around me all the time?  
S&K: We really have no idea, this is going to be a disaster. All we can do is make popcorn.  
BLONDIE: I know! I will Go Away for the summer, and I shan’t talk to Waffles at all, and I will get over it.  
(Exeunt BLONDIE; BROODY enters)  
BROODY: Hi.  
WAFFLES: You have a good face.  
(Exeunt BROODY and WAFFLES; BLONDIE enters)  
BLONDIE: My trip was awesome, I am totally over Waffles, no seriously, guys, don’t worry about it!  
S&K: Hooray?  
(BROODY and WAFFLES enter, making eyes at each other)  
BLONDIE: BROODY HAS THE WORST FACE I HAVE EVER SEEN, I HATE HIM SO MUCH.

So clearly that “getting over Waffles” plan worked really well. Things are tenuously okay, thanks to some quick work by Killigrew, but we’re taking a cue from The Vampire Diaries tonight and having a party that will bring all interested parties together and simmering tensions to the boiling point.

Hopefully we won’t reach the point of blood drinking and murders.

* * *

**Text Messages between Isabela Rivain and Garrett Hawke, 8/13/31  
** Izzy: It’s 8:15, where are you?  
 **Garrett:** Carver’s  
 **Izzy:** ????  
 **Garrett:** Mario Kart!  
 **Izzy:** Really??  
 **Garrett:** He told me he didn’t give a shit about my problems but got me an extra brownie, he’s basically perfect.  
 **Izzy:** I concede the point in this particular instance.  
 **Izzy:** But you’re still coming, right?  
 **Garrett:** I don’t really feel like fighting with Anders tonight.  
 **Izzy:** You live with him, you’ll have to fight with him sometime.  
 **Garrett:** Yeah, but I can still put that off for hours.  
 **Izzy:** Bethie will miss you when she gets here  
 **Garrett:** I’ll make it up to her.  
 **Izzy:** Fenris just walked in.  
 **Garrett:** On my way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [](http://yorglow.tumblr.com</a>tumblr</a>!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no longer going to make promises about how long new chapters will or won't take. But tada!

When Garrett opens the door to Ash Hall, he can already hear laughter floating down the stairwell from Izzy and Varric’s suite. He takes the stairs two at a time, suddenly eager to join his friends. This isn’t the first fight he and Anders have had, and it almost certainly won’t be the last; they’ll ignore each other for a few hours, and then one of them will make the other laugh and they’ll be okay again. He’s willing to put up with that little bit of familiar awkwardness in order to see everyone else.

In order to see Fenris.

Maybe the brisk walk across campus and the run up the stairs aren’t the only reasons his heart is pounding.

And then he rounds the landing between the second and third floors and almost trips over Anders, who’s sitting with his back against the wall, legs blocking off the final flight of stairs. Garrett has to leap over him in order to avoid injuries to one or both of them, and he stumbles up to the fourth step before he manages to stop. For a second, he considers continuing up to the party; he can see the half-open door from here, can hear Varric’s booming laugh and Bodie and Sandy talking over each other like they always do and the even hum of Aveline’s voice and a shriek that sounds like Tallis.

More clearly than that, though, he can hear how sad Anders sounds when he says, “Hey, G.”

Garrett turns around to look down at him, and Anders stares back up at him. Compared to how he normally looks, he’s a mess - hair falling out of its ponytail, collar half-flattened against his shoulder, one set of shoelaces coming untied. There’s a shoebox sitting on his knees, and his hands are pressed tightly against its lid.

Garrett moves down a step and sits. “Dude, are you _trying_ to get your legs broken?”

“I would deserve it,” Anders says, clicking his toes together as if in invitation.

“Maybe a little,” Garrett says. Anders looks hurt, but Garrett’s not ready to comfort him yet.

“Look,” Anders says after a second, “about earlier.” Garrett waits, and eventually Anders shoves the shoebox at him. “I brought you things.”

Garrett takes it. It’s heavier than he’s expecting but unbalanced, clearly full of objects that aren’t equally weighted or carefully packed. “You brought me things?”

“I was going to save it for your birthday, but - just open it, okay?”

Garrett sets it carefully down in his lap and removes the lid to find a jumble of what, after a second, resolves itself into horribly tacky souvenirs. He picks a few out one by one: a pair of neon pink sunglasses that read _Niagara Falls_ along the arm, a tie pin that claims to be made from authentic moose droppings, a snow globe holding a miniature model of the White House, what appears to be a tiny replica of Chicago’s Cloud Gate (though he must allow that it might also be glazed moose shit), a Joe Biden bobblehead, a creased Playbill to _Newsies_ with signatures scrawled across the cover. And those are only the beginning. There are way more odds and ends tangled together in the box, and, taking up one corner, a stack of postcards at least two inches thick. He pulls it out carefully and flips through a few; they read _Wish You Were Here_ and _Ida-howdy_ and _Montana is for Lovers_ and _Enjoying the scenery_ with pictures of mountains and lakes and scantily clad lumberjacks. They’re all written on, too, brief scrawled messages from Anders saying “For our dorm room, amirite?” or “May become a cowboy, the jury is still out, knew I should’ve applied to Deep Springs”. Garrett’s address is filled in on all of them, but none are stamped. It looks like Anders bought something for Garrett at every single rest stop, gas station, tourist trap, and sleazy motel he walked into over the entire summer.

“I really missed you,” Anders finally says. “I swear I didn’t just run off for good time adventures and forget you.”

“You could’ve called,” Garrett says, shaking the snow globe and watching sparkling flakes settle over the White House gardens, “or at least sent more than two of these postcards. We were worried. _I_ was worried.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I thought it was what I needed to do.” He says it with an air of finality, like that should answer Garrett’s questions, but it really doesn’t.

“Why?” He looks up at Anders, and Anders looks away after a second, self-consciously brushing hair back out of his face.

“I was hoping I would operate under a, like, out of sight, out of mind-style principle, rather than absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

Garrett doesn’t, and then, after a second, he does, and a lot of things click into place: Anders’ jealousy, how affectionate he’d gotten last spring, Izzy’s momentary look of concern when he’d mentioned that he and Anders would be rooming together this year. Anders busies himself tying his shoe until, his voice a little less steady than he would have liked, Garrett asks, “Did it work?”

Anders bites his lip and triple-knots his shoelace. “Jury’s still out, man, sorry.”

Garrett watches Anders, his blond hair falling across his cheek, the stretch of his shirt across his shoulders, his blunt fingers untying and retying his other shoe, and feels more or less exactly what he always does: mild exasperation, overwhelming affection, and absolutely no spark of attraction or romantic interest. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, “but I just don’t-”

“Oh, dude,” Anders cuts in, and finally looks at him with a self-deprecating roll of his eyes, “I know. We would be a fucking disaster. If I thought there was any chance it would work, I would’ve done something about it months ago. You’re my best friend, I don’t want to fuck that up, and I thought letting it go away on its own was the best way to do that, but clearly this summer plus my supreme idiocy this afternoon shot that plan all to hell, so here we are.”

“You _were_ a total idiot,” Garrett says, because that seems the safest place to land in that little speech. “I mean, seriously, what the fuck?”

Anders shrugs. “You were never really seriously into anyone last year, so I guess I told myself that it wasn’t me, it was that you weren’t interested in anyone. And now it’s like - no, it really was me, you know?”

Garrett frowns as he thinks that one through. “It’s still not you, though,” he says. “It’s him.”

Anders sighs, a brief huff of air, and Garrett watches him square his shoulders and put the wicked smirk on his face. “Jesus,” he says, “you’ve got it _bad_.”

“Oh my god, I _know_ ,” Garrett says, and covers his face with his hands. “It’s fucking embarrassing, don’t look at me.”

“He seems cool,” Anders says. “I mean, Izzy and Varric like him, and he hasn’t punched me in the face, so he’s got that going for him.”

Garrett peeks through his fingers hopefully. “You think?”

“Stop fishing,” Anders says, rolling his eyes.

“What, or you’ll have to tell me what you really think?” Garrett pokes his toes into Anders’ ribs.

“He seems cool,” Anders repeats, and grins up at Garrett.

It’s not entirely convincing, but Garrett’s willing to take it. He slides on the pink sunglasses as a fresh burst of laughter comes from the suite above them. “Shall we do this thing?”

“You know it, bro,” Anders says, scrambling to his feet.

“Oh my God, no, don’t say that!” Garrett balances the shoebox under his arm as he stands and reaches out to twitch Anders’ collar down into place.

“Wrong way,” Anders protests, and Garrett turns to leap up the final steps before he can see Anders pop it back up.

The common room is both more crowded and larger than Garrett had expected. Izzy and Varric had lucked into an early pick in the sophomore housing lottery, and the common room alone is at least twice the size of Garrett and Anders’ generously sized double. There are a lot of people who Garrett doesn’t know well, if at all, but it doesn’t take long to spot his friends. Aveline, Sebastian, Bodie, and Sandy are squashed together on a sofa; Tallis is perched on a windowsill as if it’s perfectly natural; Izzy is gesticulating with a bottle of rum. Fenris isn’t visible, but there’s a knot of people at the other end of the room that suggests that that’s where the alcohol is living.

Garrett puts his shoebox on a bookcase by the door, but before he can start pushing his way through the crowd, Bethany hurtles into his side with a shriek.

“Ow,” Garrett protests, laughing, and she beams up at him.

“College!”

“Yes, Bethie, your observational skills are unparalleled,” he says.

“Shut up,” she says, punching him in the arm. “This is Merrill!”

There’s another girl hovering a few steps behind Bethany. She’s slight, with short dark hair and pointed features, and she’s looking around with totally undisguised wide-eyed wonder.

“Hi, Merrill,” Garrett says. “Kickass bowtie.”

Her hand flies self-consciously to her throat. “Do you think? It’s something I’m trying. This is a nice party. Is it a nice party? I haven’t been to many parties, but it seems like everyone’s having fun, so it must be nice.”

“It’s a great party,” Garrett says, raising an eyebrow at Bethany. “And a great bowtie. I’m Garrett.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Merrill gasps. “You’re Bethany’s brother. Bethany’s _other_ brother. I met Carver, he’s nice. I should’ve known you were her brother, you look alike. I’m sure you’re nice, too.”

“Carver’s nice?” Garrett asks, now raising both eyebrows.

“They’re both the best,” Bethany says, punching his arm even harder.

“No, you’re the best,” Garrett tells her. “Are you both having fun? Did you get drinks?”

Bethany raises her Solo cup. “Just having one, though. I don’t want to overdo it.”

“I don’t drink,” Merrill says. “At least, I don’t think I drink. I haven’t before. Maybe I do and I just don’t know it yet.”

“No pressure,” Garrett says, raising his hands. “You’re both very sensible, and you should drink or not drink as much as you please.”

“Oh, Anders is here!” Bethany says, bouncing a little and reaching for Merrill’s hand. “Merrill, come meet Anders.”

“Have fun,” Garrett calls after them. “Make good choices!” He catches Varric’s eye through the crowd, and Varric grins and points two fingers at his eyes, then in Bethany and Merrill’s direction. Garrett clasps his hands and mouths _thank you_ before making another attempt at winding his way across the room.

“He makes a mean drink,” Izzy says into his ear, and Garrett jumps.

“And you’re just, what, letting him bartend?” He peers anxiously ahead, but still can’t make Fenris out through the crowd.

“At least he’s here,” Izzy says, and waves her rum in front of his eyes. “Have a swig before you say hi, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I can’t believe he came,” Garrett says, taking the bottle and obediently tipping some into his mouth.

“Not until I told him you were single,” Izzy says, and Garrett nearly spews rum across the room.

“ _What_?”

“He is definitely into you,” she continues. “He basically said so. Go tap that ass, Hawke.”

Garrett is, for a moment, almost hopeful. “Wait. Basically?”

“More or less. It’s what he _meant_.”

Garrett stares at her for a second, then takes another swig of rum.

Izzy sighs and pries the bottle out of his fist. “Garrett, you can either fret and pine for - let’s be honest - months," she says, sliding the sunglasses off of his face and tucking them into his pocket, "or you can accept that a super hot dude is totally into the whole gangly, sweet, good-hearted thing you’ve got going on and go make a move before someone else does.”

Garrett is back to trying to spot Fenris over people’s heads. “Do you think someone else is making a move _now_?”

“Garrett,” Izzy says, and pats him firmly on the ass, “go.”

Buoyed by the rum and thrown forward by the smack, he goes.

It doesn’t take much longer to make his way to the drinks. His progress is briefly interrupted when Tallis leaps onto his back, whispers, “Caw caw, motherfucker,” into his ear, and then leaps off again, but she’s disappeared by the time he turns around, and otherwise he gets away with nodding and mumbling, “Hey, how was your summer, mine was good,” as he passes people he recognizes. And then he shoulders his way past a couple of football players and finds himself face to face with Fenris.

There’s a table covered in bottles of alcohol, cups, and a large bowl of some kind of punch between them, and Fenris is shaking a cocktail shaker - a real, honest to God cocktail shaker, their parties have definitely taken several levels in classy over the summer - but for a second Garrett could swear that they’re in some kind of peaceful sunshine-filled meadow of romance-novel-approved daisies. He’s pretty sure he would be the one swooning, especially at the way Fenris’s arms go still when their eyes meet.

“Hey,” some girl says, leaning across the table and snapping her fingers in Fenris’s face, “hurry up with my drink.”

Fenris’s lip curls, whatever moment they were possibly having broken, and Garrett glares at her. “He’s a guest, same as you,” he snaps. “Make your own drink.”

The girl rolls her eyes as Fenris pours the drink from the shaker into a cup, which he slides smoothly past the girl’s reaching hand to Garrett. “I was just making this for him,” he says.

“What the hell,” the girl protests, “you’ve been making drinks for the last, like, hour.”

“And now he’s here,” Fenris says, and walks around the table. “Come on, Garrett.”

Garrett smirks at her and raises his cup in a little toast before trying it. He wouldn’t even make a guess at what’s in it, but it’s delicious, fizzy and citrus-y and a little sweet, just a touch of burn at the back of his throat. He has no idea where any of the ingredients came from, because it definitely isn’t a dark and stormy, but he’s not going to aruge.

“You _do_ make a mean drink,” he says to the back of Fenris’s head as Fenris pushes his way through the crowd, Garrett trailing in his wake. “Thanks.”

Fenris doesn’t respond, and Garrett mentally curses Izzy. Of course Fenris isn’t interested in him; that girl was a bitch, and his arrival gave Fenris a convenient reason to escape. Or Fenris got tired of making drinks and is leaving. Or he’s going to find somebody else to talk to and he doesn’t even realize that Garrett is following him. Or-

Fenris makes it through the door, and Garrett hesitates until Fenris looks over his shoulder and quirks an eyebrow at him.

Or maybe Izzy isn’t so bad, after all.

“I forgot how loud these things can be,” Fenris says, rubbing at one ear once they’re out on the landing. The party’s still plenty loud with the door swung halfway shut, but he can hear Fenris without having to strain. “Jesus.”

“Have you been to many?”

“My fair share,” Fenris says. “Worse than this, though. Worse people.”

“ _Worse_ people? After the paragons of humanity you’ve met today? Wow.”

Fenris hums and nods at the stairs. “Want to sit?”

They end up side-by-side on a step half a flight up. The staircase is narrow enough that their shoulders and knees brush, and the competing urges to pull his limbs in and to press closer leave Garrett paralyzed and breathless.

“So,” Fenris says.

“I’m sorry about Anders,” Garrett says, very fast and too loud.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.”

“I do for me, though. I should have - I don’t know, stopped him or something. Asked you not to leave.”

“Garrett,” Fenris says, and waits until Garrett looks over at him. “You make me nervous, too.”

Garrett can feel his face flushing, but Fenris looks away first, down at his hands, which are, as ever, tucked back into his sleeves.

With a burst of courage, Garrett reaches out and touches the back of Fenris’s hand at the edge of his cuff, just across his knuckles. “Aren’t you too warm?”

Fenris tenses beside him, but doesn’t move his hand away. “Sometimes.”

“Why, then?”

“Maybe you’ll find out,” Fenris says, and leans his shoulder closer to Garrett’s, turns his hand over to brush their fingers together.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice from above them.

“Sorry,” Garrett says as Fenris scoots over. Garrett has to - has to, like it’s a chore, he should say gets to - slide his arm around Fenris’s waist to bring him close enough to create space to let her pass. Garrett doesn’t even look to see if he knows her, far too concerned with Fenris pressed against his side. This close, he can see that Fenris’s white-blond hair is threaded with silver. It sweeps softly against Garrett’s cheek as Fenris turns his head in and breathes in slowly.

“Are you smelling me?” Garrett asks, not even trying not to smile.

“Maybe,” Fenris says. “Problem?”

“It’s a little weird,” Garrett says, brushing circles against Fenris’s lower back with his thumb. “But I guess it’s cool.”

Fenris slides back a little, though only far enough to tilt his face up to Garrett’s. “Scent’s an important part of attraction, you know.”

Garrett’s stomach swoops and breath catches and he nods rather than try to respond. Fenris smiles, his eyes flickering down to Garrett’s lips, and Garrett isn’t sure if he’s more thrilled or terrified as Fenris leans closer.

“Hey, there you are!” Anders says, bursting out of the party.

Fenris’s head snaps toward Anders and Garrett closes his eyes for a second, mumbles “Fuck, come on, really?” under his breath before turning to look at Anders. Fenris rumbles a quiet laugh and leans against Garrett, puts a hand on his knee, and Garrett forgives Anders just a little.

“Shit, sorry, I’m totally interrupting, don’t mind me,” Anders says with forced cheer. “Sock on the door if necessary, G, have fun. I just wanted to say that this punch is amazing, Fenris, you totally have to teach us how to make it for the next Mu Psi bash.”

It’s an apology and a peace offering, and Garrett grins at him until Fenris goes very still.

“Us?”

“Me and Garrett,” Anders says, looking at Garrett uncertainly.

“Mu Psi,” Fenris says, voice cold, and he’s pulling away, moving back toward the opposite side of the step, removing his hand from Garrett’s knee far too quickly. “That’s a fraternity.”

“Yeah,” Anders says, and he’s annoyed now, crossing his arms and frowning.

Fenris turns the full force of his glare on Garrett. “You’re in a fraternity?”

“Yes?” Garrett says, and he can feel this slipping away from him and he doesn’t even know why. “Is that a problem?”

Fenris snarls at him, full-out lip-curled teeth-bared _snarls_ , and stands up. “This was a mistake,” he says, and he’s bolted down the stairs before Garrett can even process what he’s said, much less respond.

Anders and Garrett stare at each other as his footsteps recede.

“Well,” Anders says as the hinges on the building door squeak far below them, his cheer no longer forced in the least, “guess you dodged that bullet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://yorglow.tumblr.com) sometimes!


	7. Chapter 7

**Text Messages between Fenris Koios and Isabela Rivain, 8/31/13**  
 **Fenris:** Would you make sure I get my corkscrew and cocktail shaker back, please?  
 **Izzy:** Going somewhere? ;)  
 **Fenris:** Home. Alone.  
 **Izzy:** Alone??  
 **Fenris:** You know we’re not friends, right?  
 **Izzy:** What crawled up your ass?  
 **Fenris:** Back off.

* * *

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 1, 2013 at 1:48 PM  
Subject: Last Night

Hey, so, I don’t exactly know what happened last night. I’m really sorry if I did or said anything that upset you. I know we don’t know each other very well, but I like you a lot, and it seemed like you were interested, too. If you’re not, though, it’s totally okay. I promise I won’t be weird about it or anything. I’d really like it if we could be friends.

* * *

From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Admiral Adama [vtethras@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 10:04 AM  
Subject: Odd Inventions

Varric,

While I appreciate the invitation, I think it would be best if I’m not involved with Odd Inventions this year. I hope you’re able to find another designer.

Fenris

*

From: Admiral Adama [vtethras@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 10:10 AM  
Subject: Re: Odd Investions

Any chance you’d be willing to talk about this on gchat or something? I’m varric.tethras.

V

* * *

**fenris.k[at]gmail.com:** I hope you’re not planning to try to change my mind.  
 **varric.tethras[at]gmail.com:** Wouldn’t dream of it. I’d like to know why, though.  
 **fenris.k:** I don’t think I’ll fit into the culture of the group.  
 **varric.tethras:** Is this about the frat thing?  
 **fenris.k:** Heard about that, did you?  
 **varric.tethras:** I hear about everything.  
 **fenris.k:** That’s part of it, yes.  
 **varric.tethras:** You’re actually far from alone in your opinion.  
 **varric.tethras:** Sebastian hates the frats, and he’s had his share of tension with Garrett and Anders. Aveline isn’t much of a fan either, honestly.  
 **fenris.k:** What’s your point?  
 **varric.tethras:** I’m just saying, you don’t have to like frats to fit in with the group culture.  
 **varric.tethras:** Hell, you don’t even have to like Garrett and Anders. They’re actors. Nobody likes actors. As long as you’re willing to light them, you can think whatever you want.   
**fenris.k:** There are the dinners and things, though.  
 **varric.tethras:** Which aren’t required events. And somebody isn’t talking to somebody else at, like, half of those things, honestly.  
 **fenris.k:** Why do you care so much?  
 **varric.tethras:** Because I like you and I think you’d be an asset to Odd Inventions.  
 **varric.tethras:** And because you’re going to be pretty isolated at Kirkwall if you refuse to have anything to do with anyone who’s part of the Greek system.  
 **fenris.k:** I’ll think about it.  
 **varric.tethras:** Awesome. That’s all I ask.

* * *

**Text Messages between Isabela Rivain and Fenris Koios, 9/2/13**  
 **Izzy:** I have your shit  
 **Izzy:** Even tho we’re not friends  
 **Izzy:** I’ll just leave it in the common room, swing by whenever  
 **Fenris:** Thank you.  
 **Fenris:** I’m sorry I snapped at you.  
 **Fenris:** Text-snapped. Whatever.  
 **Izzy:** You weren’t wrong. We’re not friends.  
 **Fenris:** Not yet, no.  
 **Izzy:** You know who is my friend?  
 **Izzy:** Garrett  
 **Fenris:** I’ve gotten that impression, yes.  
 **Izzy:** Who you were super shitty to for no apparent reason  
 **Fenris:** The Greek system is an antiquated, abusive institution, and I don’t trust anyone who chooses to participate in it.  
 **Izzy:** Wow, judgy much?  
 **Fenris:** I don’t have to explain myself to you.  
 **Izzy:** Whatever, judgy-pants.   
**Izzy:** Just email him back  
 **Izzy:** His moping is getting really sad  
 **Izzy:** And if you dont respond you’re the dick in this situation  
 **Izzy:** And I try not to be friends with dicks

* * *

From: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]; Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 4:45 PM  
Subject: SOMEBODY SAVE ME

I swear to god, if Garrett mopes around here any longer I will scream, I love him but he is really harshing my beginning-of-semester vibe, guys. Varric is no help and Anders keeps actively making it worse. PLEASE HELP.

*

From: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Izzy [irivain@kirkwall.edu]; Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 4:48 PM  
Subject: Re: SOMEBODY SAVE ME

Fear not, fair damsel. I’ll rescue you.

*

From: Izzy [irivain@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]; Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 4:50 PM  
Subject: Re: SOMEBODY SAVE ME

I’ll show YOU fair damsel.

*

From: Aveline [avallen@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Izzy! [irivain@kirkwall.edu]; Sebastian Vael [svael@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 5:05 PM  
Subject: Re: SOMEBODY SAVE ME

Nobody wants to see your fair damsel, Izzy.

I’ll try to grab him for lunch tomorrow.

* * *

**Text Messages between Sebastian Vael and Garrett Hawke, 9/2/13**  
 **Sebastian:** Want to get dinner?  
 **Garrett:** IDK, are you going to be awful about how I’m sad that I didn’t hook up with a dude?  
 **Sebastian:** Not planning on it.  
 **Garrett:** I guess so, then.  
 **Sebastian:** Cheer up, sad panda!  
 **Garrett:** Ugh, really?  
 **Sebastian:** =D

* * *

From: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
To: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 9:53 PM  
Subject: Re: Last Night

I’m not interested, and it’s unlikely that we’ll be friends. I should never have let things go as far as they did on Saturday.

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: Fenris Koios [fkoios@kirkwall.edu]  
BCC: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 10:05 PM  
Subject: Re: Last Night

Okay. Thanks for letting me know.

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 10:07 PM  
Subject: Re: Last Night

I’m not going to say I told you so (again).

I AM going to say I have judgment-free brownies, kahlua, and Netflix Instant waiting for you when you get home.

*

From: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
To: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 10:08 PM  
Subject: Re: Last Night

I want to watch Mean Girls.

*

From: a really annoying bad penny [afjall@kirkwall.edu]  
To: it’s a bird it’s a plane it’s [ghawke@kirkwall.edu]  
Date: September 2, 2013 at 10:10 PM  
Subject: Re: Last Night

Well, twist my arm.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. Currently un-betaed (and taking volunteers, if anyone's interested), so any errors are mine and mine alone.


End file.
